


In the Dying Flames

by ria_oaks



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, post-episode 8x02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 20:39:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18557428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ria_oaks/pseuds/ria_oaks
Summary: Jaime and Brienne share a moment before the Battle of Winterfell.





	In the Dying Flames

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS for episode 8X02
> 
> I couldn't help myself ok, I had a lot of feelings after that episode. Written quickly and late at night after the episode, it's now after midnight and I really ought to go to bed. Enjoy. :) I like to believe this is what happened after the episode!

The night wears on and one by one the others leave. Davos first, then Podrick followed by Tormund, who departs with one final wistful look back at Brienne. Tyrion is the last, and he lingers for a moment to catch Jaime’s eye.

Something unspoken passes between them and Jaime can feel its weight pressing down upon him. He has no expectations for tonight, this last night he is likely to live, and yet he finds himself tensing in anticipation of his brother’s judgement. He hardly knows himself what he feels, but then Tyrion has always been the smart one. He holds Tyrion’s gaze, steady, and inclines his head slightly. It is both a question and a confession, though he is not sure of what he is asking or confessing.

Tyrion darts his eyes over to Brienne, who is staring with hands clasped into the dying flames. The light plays across her face, dancing and flickering as the flames dwindle ever lower. Jaime wonders that he ever thought her ugly. She is not traditionally beautiful, it is true, not like his sister. Cersei is all soft curves and graceful movements, and he had once been entranced by her. Now he can see only the distance in her eyes and the coldness behind her flattering smiles.

Brienne is not soft, and she is not graceful unless here is a sword in her hand. She is tall and ungainly, awkward when she is not fighting, and she looks absurd in a dress. Her hair is not perfectly coifed, her eyebrows have likely never been plucked a day in her life, and her hands are calloused like the knight she now is. His own hand had shaken slightly as he laid the sword upon her shoulder. If she noticed, she had said nothing. She is nothing he ever expected to desire, and he cannot look away.

Tyrion clears his throat gently, and when Jaime looks back at him there is a knowing look on his brother’s face. Tyrion quirks his lips upwards, gives Jaime a fraction of a nod, and slips out the door. Jaime stares after him a moment. He doesn’t need Tyrion’s approval, but he is oddly touched by the gesture even so.

He turns back to look at Brienne, whose gaze still rests upon the fire. He can feel his heart thumping beneath his breastplate as though he were a boy again. With Cersei it always came easy, natural in spite of what he knows should not have been. The only fear had ever been of discovery, and indeed that had often been more thrill than anything. Right now, however, he is at a loss for what to say. 

“So, that red-headed Wildling certainly seems fond of you.” He hears the words come out of his mouth before he can stop them. The look Brienne gives him is incredulous, which he can hardly blame her for, but she also looks faintly disgusted by the idea which raises his spirits.

“Does that make you jealous?” There’s mirth in her voice, but he can see the question in her eyes.

Say no, he tells himself. Tell her what she does is her own business, then go to bed and forget this ever happened.

But he doesn’t expect to live to see the next sunset, so what comes out instead is – 

“And if I am?”

She sucks in a sharp breath and her eyes widen. She says nothing.

The silence seems to stretch for hours. Jaime watches from the corner of his eye as the last of the flames burns down to embers. The shadows lengthen across the room until all he can see is Brienne. They could be the only two people left in this gods-forsaken world for all he knows or cares.

At last she leans back and a tiny smile flits over her face. “You shouldn’t be.” And he’s out of his chair before he realizes he’s moved.

Her mouth is soft beneath his and he swallows her surprised gasp. For half a moment she hesitates and he worries that he’s read things wrong, but then she relaxes into him with a sigh and parts her lips. He twines his fingers into her hair and discovers that the strands, too, are softer than he had expected. She is at once soft and hard, pliable under his lips even as her body is firm against him. He brings his hand around to cup her face and deepens the kiss.

She is not Cersei. Cersei always knew exactly what do to, where to touch, how to reduce him to nothing with a single kiss. Brienne is awkward, unsure of how to move her tongue or where to put her hands. They hover for a moment, then she seems to gather her resolve and she grips his shoulders tightly. He can feel her strength and it turns him on more than a hundred of his sister’s gentle caresses ever had. There are no fancy dresses here, only steel armour that reveals nothing of her body. The memory of their shared bath washes over him, and he yearns to see her laid bare before him again. If this is to be his final night among the living then he wants his last memory to be of her strong legs wrapped around him as he fucks her until the battle dawns.

The horns sound from outside and they break apart. Jaime curses, and the vision of Brienne spread beneath him vanishes as reality crashes back upon them. For a wild moment he thinks of ignoring the summons. Of taking Brienne upstairs to his bed and making love to her until the dead come for them both. But he had made a vow once, and now she too has taken those same vows by his hand. They are knights, and they have a duty to fulfill.

He runs his thumb over her lips and her eyes close briefly. He wants to kiss her again, but knows that if he does then he will never have the strength to do what must be done.

“After, Ser Brienne.” It’s a promise he cannot keep, and she knows it. Yet when her eyes open, determination shines within them.

“After,” she agrees, and they walk outside to greet the dead.


End file.
